I have no idea how to describe it better right now, so, I’m going to start like this. This is the first part of a series of texts about my inner darkness. This is not a text of overcoming darkness; it’s a text about accepting it and learning to love it as an inherent part of myself.
Have you ever felt like, maybe, you’re daydreaming too much? Has the world ever felt like it feels when you’re sleeping? Sometimes a bit blurry and funny. Sometimes monochromatic.
When I was diagnosed with depression I had barely been 16 years old. Yet, I’ve been suffering from this since the age of 12, when I moved from my mother’s to my father’s.
My father was absent. I left my mother’s with a lot of hate and darkness in my heart. She was in a toxic relationship with a husband that was causing hell inside our home.
So I left.
I traded hell for nothingness.
To this day, still, I can’t see how I could have ever chosen something else.
Nevertheless, unfortunately, I had entered my own little world of illusions and parallel realities. Little did I know I was on a path of no return.
I started to create a world inside this world, to escape. I’ve become an escapist.
It’s beautiful to be an escapist in poetry and song, but very scary in reality. Can you imagine living like you’re just a viewer in your life? Like you’re just sitting there watching someone else take control because you feel so numb you can’t do it yourself? Detached from your body by you, and only you.
I sensed things were getting worse with depression when my depersonalization started to show up. Every time things started to get too stressful or scary I felt myself silently slipping to a corner of my mind. To hide. It felt like someone else, a robotic side of me took place in these moments. I felt numb and all reality around me seemed to escape. There I dwelt.
When the crisis is gone, usually the true me shows up, but it never shows up 100% since I slipped too far into the depths of my mind. I’ve sometimes tried to stop it, but the anxiety crisis it caused was too deep and desperate for me to bear.
That’s how I’ve been living.
It made me become a very shy person, insecure and isolated. Only a few individuals can see the size of my darkness, so I’m okay pretending everything is fine. Or as okay as possible.
One may get used to darkness after 16 years living on it. Even when there’s some light, I get scared and immediately back away.
My mother says I like being sad and depressed. I say it’s become part of me and I just accepted who I am.
It’s an endless circle of sadness: cry desperately, get numb, angry, anxiety crisis, a circle of sadness and cry desperately again. What a lonely hell.
I get tired even of breathing sometimes.
The weight inside my chest is unbearable.
Right now I’m in between anger and anxiety phase.
In these moments, my depersonalization weakens. It gets hard to breathe, hard to live. To get up is as much of a struggle as it is to be able to fall asleep. Insomnia becomes my company during these dark nights. It gets hard to breathe as the weight on my chest gets too heavy. Feels like my demons are trying to escape from the prison of my soul. And it hurts. It hurts insanely.
Written by M. Baggins